


Painfully Devoted

by mhunter10



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: M/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-02
Updated: 2013-09-02
Packaged: 2017-12-25 10:43:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/952131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mhunter10/pseuds/mhunter10
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ian thinks about the bad, and the good.</p><p>Set the night of 3x09.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Painfully Devoted

Ian couldn’t believe it. Or maybe he could. He could, but that didn’t mean he wanted to. He was hoping he’d be wrong about how this little confrontation thing would go, but he was more right than he’d imagined. And that was so wrong. He of all people should have known it wouldn’t be that easy. He hated that he was so right and so very wrong, all at the same time. Who would ever think for a second that Mickey Milkovich would just drop his bad-boy persona and admit anything that remotely resembled feelings or caring? But that look…

Ian adjusted the bag of peas under his face, the cold only sort of soothing the sting. The injured cheek wasn’t getting puffier, but he knew it would be worse tomorrow. It wasn’t that it hurt anymore, it was just numb. Everything was numb. He could feel the rapidly thawing bag creating a big wet spot on his pillow; hot tears adding to the stain. He wished he could stop replaying it all in his head because now he was just going in circles, and it was making his brain hurt. And his heart. And his stomach. That punch didn’t just knock the wind out of him and it didn’t even bother him so much now. It knocked a little bit of everything he’d hoped for out of him, and it all hit the ground just like he did. The only good thing was that they didn’t completely leave. Everything he felt, and even what Mickey felt, just oozed out of him with each blow. But was that good? Did he want to keep all of it, when all it did was cause him pain? If he was a girl, this would be the part where all his friends tell him to forget about the bastard, move on, find someone else. “You can do so much better than him,” they’d say, but they wouldn’t even begin to know what they were talking about. Ian knew that sounded like a typical victim excuse, but the only thing he believed he was a victim of was the unforgiving and relentless feeling of being in love. And that’s what it was. He was in love with Mickey. No, not was, is.

The physical pain was nothing to Ian. He was training to be in the army, for God’s sake! He’s tougher than most people give him credit for, considering everything he’s lived through. Not to mention where he lives. Anything less and he would have been dead by now. So, no. The wounds would heal like always, making tougher skin. The whole reason they even fucking got together was because they were fighting. Mickey literally went from throwing him up against his wall, to practically ripping his clothes off! Mickey could hit him all he wanted and he didn’t give a damn. He knew where it stemmed from and knew he could take him on at any time. No, that wasn’t what bothered him. He wasn’t crying his eyes out in his room because he got some fucking boo-boos. Mickey could have smashed that liquor bottle over his head, but what hurt the most was that he couldn’t even say it. He couldn’t say the one thing Ian needed to hear. Sure, he’d begged him not to kill his dad, but he pleaded for Mickey to just admit it once. But it wasn’t just for himself. He knew Mickey would never be able to accept it, if he didn’t say it out loud. And he wouldn’t, so now they were over. Done. Despite everything Mickey had put him through, the one thing he learned was to listen to what he didn’t say. When a Milkovich was silent, was when they were the most dangerous. Actions truly did speak louder than words for them. Lying on the cold, hard ground in his own blood and groaning in pain, Ian heard Mickey loud and clear.

A fresh stream of tears ran down his face, and Ian held back a sob as best he could. Even though he could hear his family downstairs talking loudly with excitement and knew they wouldn’t be thinking anything of his absence, the last thing he needed was to draw attention to himself and cause more drama. He didn’t care. He imagined one of them being hungry enough to notice the frozen goods were missing, but that was about it. He knew he could go to them any time with his problems, but mostly he preferred to keep everything he was going through to himself. That was what the Gallagher’s did. Right now, he would gladly be in the midst of another Kash or Ned situation. At least they knew what it was like to be trapped and unable to express themselves, so they had no problem pushing their affections towards him. He could handle married men who used him as their fantasy escape, but he just couldn’t deal with one who would marry to escape him. Especially now he knew the love was really there.

When Ian woke up, the room was dark and he could hear the familiar sounds of sleep coming from his brothers. The last thing he remembered was pulling his blanket around him and curling up tighter, as his crying gradually subsided. He guessed getting the shit kicked out of him had made him a little tired. He didn’t know if anyone had tried to wake him up or say anything, but he probably would have pretended he was asleep anyway. The bag of peas was warm and dry against his skin, and the plastic was stuck in places where blood had dried. It crinkled as he tried to sit up. His face felt heavy and swollen, but at least his eye was still able to open and close. He made a note to thank Mickey for not aiming any higher and knocking his eye out the socket. It was rough trying to get to a sitting position. There was a bruise on his stomach the size of a fist, no doubt, and moving too fast made it hurt like hell. He shifted slightly and the pain mixed with the taste of dry blood in his mouth, made him feel sick all of a sudden. He got up and got to the bathroom as best he could, lifted the toilet seat and puked. The bile tasted horrible and the acidity burned his throat. He didn’t remember what he had for lunch or if he could even eat with the news Mandy sprung on him at school, but whatever it was he regretted it. He retched a few more times, each one like a fresh punch, then spit and flushed. He hoped he hadn’t woken anyone with the noise of his existence.

Ian rinsed his mouth out and examined himself in the mirror. He didn’t look too bad…for now. The left side of his face looked big and red, he touched it and winced. Whatever. Nothing he could do about it. He splashed some water on his face to clear away some of the mess that was still there, then popped the cap on a bottle of aspirin and swallowed two. He wished he could smoke something, but it was going to be a fat chance with his supplier wanting nothing to do with him right now. Or ever, it seemed. He doubted he’d be able to close his fat mouth around a blunt, anyway. He felt empty, but that probably ruled out eating anything, as well. Ian left the bathroom and crept back down the hall to the room. He took his jeans off and slipped his shirt over his head carefully. The bruise on his abs was already showing in the little light that filtered in from the window. It was late. He checked his phone, but he wasn’t expecting anything to be there. Neither Carl nor Lip even stirred. He got back into bed and pulled the covers up to where he was almost covered. Ian lie there staring into the darkness for a while, waiting for the drugs to kick in and knock him out. He wished he’d taken something stronger.

He finally closed his eyes, but all he could see were flashes of what happened. The images appearing before him creating fresh feelings like it was happening all over again. It would be so easy for him to just let them consume him, but he’d never get any sleep that way. He also wouldn’t let them be the last thoughts he had before sleep overtook him. It would only create nightmares. It was hard to believe that mere weeks ago, Mickey had actually kissed him. Just jumped back in the van and planted one. Did it without even saying a word, and ran off giving him the finger like “you better not ever mention this to me”. Of course he got shot moments later, so there wasn’t time for a whole discussion. Ian was starting to see a pattern. One step forward for Mickey, means three steps back and possibly a bullet. Or worse, like the day he would never forget when Terry caught them. He didn’t think he could ever get the image of the look on the other boy’s face out of his head, but he also had plenty to remember about the night before. That was one fucking fun night, but in more than one way. Sure, they fucked their brains out, but Mickey had actually initiated or at least allowed some things. Ian actually couldn’t help but smile, albeit painfully, just thinking about how happy Mickey was; how happy they were. He should have seen the inevitable coming. It was all too good.

Mickey was the king of contradicting himself. During the first movie, Ian had tried to put his hand on his. He pulled his hand away and said,”None of that gay shit, Gallagher.” Ten minutes later, Mickey moved his arm to the back of the couch, but more resting on Ian’s shoulders. Ian just kept his eyes on the screen and finished his beer to keep that stupid grin off his face. The second movie comprised of them devising subtle ways to get closer to each other, like a game. One would get up to do something or take a piss and sit back down two or three inches from their original spot. Finally Ian shifted slightly and somehow his hand ended up resting on Mickey’s leg instead of his own. In his peripheral he saw Mickey glance at the contact, tensing a bit, and then look at him for several seconds. Neither said a word and the hand stayed. Ian could actually feel him relax into it. By the time the third movie was done, they were going down on each other right on the couch. It felt amazing having his dick in Mickey’s mouth, but it felt even more amazing knowing they were completely alone to do whatever they wanted. They fucked twice on the couch that night, not worried about how loud they were being. He could have swore he heard Mickey say his name in surprised pleasure when he rimmed him a little before thrusting inside. They could have kept going all night long, if not for obvious bodily limits. All of that was great, but it wasn’t the best part of their little sleepover, or whatever the fuck they were calling it. Not by a long shot. It hadn’t even started off sexual, but it was the most pleasurable thing Ian felt. Exhausted, he started to drift off a little bit. They were sitting on the couch in their boxers watching some nature show about bears. Mickey teased him about it being past his bedtime and said if he couldn’t hang anymore, he could crash in his bed. Without missing a beat, Ian shot back that he just needed to recuperate from doing all the work.

Ian had been in Mickey’s bed plenty of times, but none of those times involved actually sleeping. It was big enough for them to lie side by side, but that wasn’t how they liked to do things. Even after they were done, he knew he wasn’t allowed to linger long. That would be too much like couple shit and Mickey wasn’t a fan of that, or so he liked to claim. Ian didn’t even bother getting under the covers, he just fell on top of the bed and fell right to sleep. He didn’t know how long it had been, but he stirred when he felt another presence in the room. No, not just in the room, but right next to him. He opened his eyes a little and found Mickey, propped up by his elbows on his stomach, puffing on the last of his cigarette. It was dark except for the red-orange glow from the tip. When Ian said he hadn’t heard him come in and asked how long he’d been there, Mickey didn’t say anything. He just blew the smoke from his mouth and stubbed out the butt somewhere on his dresser. It was so quiet and Ian was starting to think Mickey wanted him to get out of his bed like usual, but he was looking at him differently. Suddenly, Mickey was leaning closer to him and touching his lips to his in a firm kiss. Just as Ian started to say his name, Mickey told him to shut up and kissed him again. They were short beginner kisses with their mouths only touching for a few seconds, but each one felt like an eternity. There was no way Mickey was going to let it get to full on making out with tongue and shit, but what he was giving felt so fucking amazing. He thought he would cry when Mickey put his hand on the mattress to the side of his head, and shifted so his chest was semi-on top of his. His lips tasted like beer and nicotine, but were surprisingly soft against his. He had to control himself from getting carried away, or he would scare him off. Ian could feel the heat of the other boy’s skin touching his, realizing Mickey wasn’t wearing his boxers anymore, and it was starting to affect him. When Mickey raised up and looked at him, Ian couldn’t help but smile a little looking stunned but horny as hell. “Stop fucking smiling, Gallagher, and do me,” he said quietly, jokingly. Even though he lifted the corner of his mouth in a small smile, his eyes were completely serious and his tone said what he really wanted. And Ian gave it to him. It wasn’t all rough and quick like so many times before. Ian took his time, making sure each pump was hard and each stroke was slow. Mickey moved with him; arching and pushing. The room was filled with their moans and the sounds of the bed reacting to their movements. Ian ran his hands all over the other boy. Their breathing got heavier with the agony of how bad they wanted to release. When they finally did, it felt like it went on forever. The waves crashing over and out multiple times. As they fell asleep, Ian wondered what Mickey would do if he ever referred to what they just did as making love.

Ian fell asleep and dreamed of the look of pure bliss on Mickey’s face when they woke up next to each other.


End file.
